I opened my mouth to thank him for the food and taking care of me, and especially for the side trip to Tewkesbury and the chance to revisit my family line, when movement out of the front bay window caught my eye. I was on my feet and peering around the thick cream curtains in an instant. Samson was soon beside me.
“What is it?” he asked over my shoulder.
“I saw something move, a shadow.” There were many shadows out in the pristine neighbourhood outside, between the expensive cars parked on the one way street, under the cover of the copious well trimmed trees and plants that bordered the wide footpath and out of the glow of the ornate looking lamp posts. “I don't know, maybe I was mistaken.”
“Always follow your first instincts, mistress, they are seldom wrong and show us more of our environment than our conscious mind allows.”
We stood still for a while, nothing happened and just when I decided it had to have been a mistake, two forms materialised across the street as though they had chosen to expose themselves, chosen to give themselves away. It had been a conscious move, we hadn't discovered them, they had allowed us to see they were there.
Antonio and Ricardo stood casually across the street, black trench coats down to the ground, broad shoulders, hands held loosely together in front of their bodies. Ricardo lifted his right hand in a salute to us and then both men melted back into the shadows, just as they had done in Michel's underground car park at Sensations when I was first introduced to them.
“Shit. Michel knows we're here,” I muttered under my breath.
Samson's hand came down on my shoulder, but he didn't say anything, he didn't need to. He'd made it obvious that he would do anything for me and I guess that meant protect me from Michel too.
I'd been blocking so hard that I hadn't even considered that Michel would find me through the Bond connection we shared, I had just assumed I had blocked him enough to keep him away. I certainly hadn't been looking for him. I did now.
Call them off! I sent the thought out to him.
No, came the soft reply.
I don't want them here.
Would you rather me?
And then he appeared on the footpath directly in front of Samson's wrought iron fence, his magenta-washed eyes on me.
Ah crap.
Chapter 16
Dangerous Spells
I pulled the curtains closed on my kindred. Out of sight, out of mind. Yeah right. I swung back towards Samson.
“Can he get inside?” I asked, biting my bottom lip.
“If he chose to, yes.”
“Doesn't he need an invite to get in?”
“That is only for human dwellings, mistress, he can unlock the front door with his mind and simply step across the threshold, should he desire,” Samson replied, matter of factly.
“Don't you have any wards on this place?” I knew I was sounding a bit demanding, a little bit judgemental in fact, but my heart rate had sky rocketed and my mouth had gone dry and I was starting to get that panicked feeling, something that was becoming a little too familiar for my liking.
Samson didn't show any signs of being offended by my tone. “I have never needed to ward this residence before. I shall look into it immediately and arrange some protection for you, mistress, however, it may be too late for this evening. I hear him at the door.”
I didn't need him to tell me that, I could feel Michel there as well, like a blinding light on a dark storm tossed night, a beacon calling me home. I turned, as if in slow motion and heard the door click open, then felt my kindred walk closer. I glanced around frantically for an escape, I even felt inside my jacket for my stakes, but of course I wouldn't stake him. I couldn't stake him, no matter the fear and anger that ratcheted up my spine.
Samson took a step in front of me, shielding my body, as though he could feel my emotions and read my thoughts.
Michel came into the lounge, taking up more space than he had any right to. He was dressed in his signature dark off-black Armani suit, white shirt and a pale blue silk tie. He glanced around the room, taking in the decorations and furnishing, and then levelled his gaze on me. The magenta was still there, but hints of mauve and violet had started to seep back in.
“Ma douce,” he said in way of greeting, he didn't even acknowledge Samson at all. “You look pale. Are you well?”
I just stared at him and willed myself to keep breathing. The last time I had seen him, he had been threatening to feed off another in front of me in an outright attempt to punish me. Yet as he stood there, so familiar, so perfect, I wanted nothing more than to walk toward him and wrap my arms around his waist, bury my face in his chest and inhale all of that beautiful fresh clean cut grass and salty sea spray that is his signature scent.
He smiled at my thoughts and took a step closer.
I clenched my fists and shot a blast of anger back. He stopped in his tracks and blanched slightly. Vampires have a limited range of emotions, anger is certainly one of them, but whenever I force my emotions on Michel, it's as though his body has difficulty processing them. They throw him off balance. I can use my emotions like a weapon, as far as Michel is concerned. I wondered why I hadn't done that at the Palais, why I hadn't made him feel what I had been feeling when he attempted to do what he did.
Michel sighed. “I felt them, ma douce, I chose to ignore them.”
I was surprised at the admission, it didn't paint him in a very nice light and certainly wouldn't win him any favours with me, would it?
“I have no intention of lying to you, if we are to get past this, then it must be with full disclosure,” he said quietly, still keeping his focus on me.
“What makes you think we can get past this, Michel?” I asked, stiffly.
“We are kindred, it will be impossible for us not to try.”
“Convenient, don't you think? You can then simply hurt me again and rely on the fact that we are kindred to let you make amends. Is this a cycle we will repeat for eternity, Michel? You hurt me, I let you back in, and then you hurt me all over again?”
Samson began growling, a low, rough sound in the back of his throat. He obviously did not like the fact that Michel had hurt me and he was making it known. Michel's eyes slowly slid to Samson.
“I see,” he said and this time there was a little of that ice cold Michel in his tone. “Your puppy has grown attached.”
I placed a hand on Samson's arm to calm him - it would be no good if he tried to take Michel on - stepping closer to him in the process, not even realising that I had brushed up against him in a familiar move. Michel stiffened, his gaze locked on where I stood, how I touched Samson, how close I was to the length of his body and then shot up to my face.
“Have you found a replacement so quickly, ma douce? Did the imp not pass your demanding standards? Is it vampyre only for you and any vampyre will do?”
My mouth dropped open in shock. How dare he? How could he possibly think I would be that cheap? I saw his body relax as he heard my fervent thoughts, but unfortunately, my thoughts had continued and this time there was no denying the reaction they got. I'd just brushed guiltily on the episode on the plane and Michel was on us.
First he thrust Samson away from me, sending him flying across the room, then he pulled me against his body, crushing me to his chest and spinning to face Samson's approach. He was using me like a shield, Samson stopped in mid flight and crouched low and growled, eyes locked on my attacker, on Michel.
Michel simply brushed my hair out of my eyes, his face coming over my shoulder and resting cheek to cheek with me. His arm was across my chest holding me firmly back against his body and my hands automatically came up to hold on to his wrist, not even bothering to try to dislodge him, just resting there. No doubt his eyes were locked on Samson, but his body was responding to me. Or the adrenaline pumping through him, or the heightened Sanguis Vitam in the room, the potential for confrontation, whatever it was, he was getting aroused and then suddenly, so was I.
Samson noticed it first
and stood upright immediately. “Mistress?” he asked, more than a little concern showing in his face.
“Leave us, Samson,” I breathed out, huskily. Michel's entire body stiffened.
Samson just stood there a moment. “Are you sure? You know how this will end. This is not what you wanted.”
“Leave us.” I backed it up with my Light, a command a member of my line could not ignore.
Samson nodded and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Ma douce?” Michel asked uncertainly, but not releasing his grasp. I just started rubbing myself against him, relishing the instant hardening of his sex in response.
“What are you doing?” he asked, again a little uncertainly.
“What does it look like?” I husked.
“Why?” Short sentences, he was starting to get angry, a reaction to being on uncertain ground. This was not what he had expected me to be doing, coming on to him, trying to get him aroused. No, he expected me to fight.
Tell that to the Lutin induced spell. And to top things off, even though I was still angry with him, even though he had hurt me and I professed to never wanting to have a single thing to do with him again. I couldn't stop the desire that coursed through me. This was Michel, not some random fairy, not a vampire of my line who conveniently happened to be there when the spell activated. This was Michel. My Michel, and despite everything that had happened, my mind, my heart, let alone my body, still wanted this man.
I spun in his hold, taking advantage of his confusion and ended up chest to chest, rubbing against his groin in a sinuous move, my hands now flowing over his back, down to his rear and then around to the front of his trousers and undoing his belt before he even realised what was happening.
He pushed me away as soon as the belt hit the floor, a look of utter shock washing his features. He held a hand out to stop my advance, stilling me with the shocked look in his eyes.
“Lucinda, what is going on?”
“I want you. Now,” I breathed, taking a step forward. He took a step back.
“You're not angry with me?” he asked, incredulously.
“I'm horny,” I said, managing to get close enough to nibble his ear, before he pushed me gently away again.
“That does not sound like you, Lucinda. You are usually more... subtle.”
I huffed and prowled after him, he continued to side step my advance.
“Lucinda, we need to talk.”
“Talking is overrated,” I murmured and spun through the space between us, landing flush against his back, my hands wrapping around his waist and undoing his trouser button, before he stepped away.
“Lucinda!” He jumped, twirling around to face me, but I'd already spun away and came up behind him again, pulling the same manoeuvre and unzipping his fly.
A groan came out of his mouth as my hand found his hard length, then he spun to face me and threw me to the floor, holding my wrists above my head, grinding his body into mine. The spell erupted and I wrapped my legs around him and nuzzled my face into his neck, whimpering my need.
“What on Earth has got into you, ma douce?” he asked, as I nipped above his pulse point and he cried out in alarm, pulling back and holding my head still by just his fingers on my jaw. He looked into my eyes, trying to see something, I had no idea what, but whatever it was he seemed unsatisfied.
I started moving my hips against him and he shifted uncomfortably.
“You don't want me?” I pouted, then tried to nip him again when his hold on my chin softened at those words. His grasp instantly tightened again when the nip neared its mark.
“Always,” he ground out. “But, you do not particularly want me right now, or had you forgotten?”
“I'll forgive you if you fuck me,” I said with a smile.
The look on his face was priceless, he swallowed, then shook his head, then made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat, then started stroking my face, my hair, my neck, making me forget for a moment that he wasn't actually doing the deed I wanted, but was at least touching me in some fashion anyway.
“What is going on, ma douce?” he asked softly, laying a kiss against my throat and making me purr. “Why are you like this?”
“I want you. Need you. Gotta have you now.” I writhed beneath him and he held me firmer with his hands and body, still managing to quieten me with the petting against my face and neck.
“What about what happened at the Palais?” An image flashed through my mind unbidden at those words and I cringed. “So, you have not forgotten entirely. Do you still want me now?” He rolled his hips against me, obviously having not worked out what was going on because instead of infuriating me, I just ground back, wrapping my legs tighter and moaned.
“Merde,” he muttered and then I felt his Sanguis Vitam fill the air and he said loudly and firmly, “Samson!”
His power must have been greater than my command, because Samson suddenly appeared inside the room.
“Michel,” he said, quietly.
“What is wrong with her?” Michel asked, Sanguis Vitam still pulsating through the air.
He kept petting me, stroking me, touching me, but didn't roll his hips, or kiss me with his lips, only enough touch to keep me quiet, but not stop my attempts to entice him further.
“She has been bespelled by the Fey Prince.”
Michel stilled, that preternatural calm vampires do, but then I started mewling, so he continued his petting, shushed me and looked over his shoulder at Samson.
“How? When?” he demanded of the younger vampire, enforcing the questions with more of his prickling Sanguis Vitam.
“He took her away from the hotel we were staying in at the airport, tried to seduce her and failed, then returned her like this.”
Michel nodded as though it all made perfect sense. “She came back horny?” he asked, anger lacing his words.
“No, it wasn't until she saw me after I had fed on the plane and had... fulfilled my desires, that she responded. Lust seems to activate the spell.”
Michel was silent for a moment, taking that in, still petting me and holding me still. “Did she come on to you?” His voice had lowered and was wrapped in Sanguis Vitam, enough to make me whimper and writhe beneath him. He didn't pull it back, just rolled his hips once in response to satisfy me.
“Yes,” Samson answered, reluctantly it would seem.
“How did you deal with it?” There was a wealth of unsaid threats behind the seemingly innocuous question.
"I convinced her to lower her shields and glazed her to sleep."
"Is that all?" Michel asked slowly, his voice laced with Sanguis Vitam.
“I...” Samson hesitated, then as though against his will, went on. "I kissed her, to test my suspicions, to determine what kind of spell."
I felt Michel's anger like it was my own, it burst out of him, washing me and Samson, and smashing every glass surface in the room. Light bulbs, mirrors, lamp shades, windows, glass on the front of a display case, the TV, my coffee mug, the plate with the selections of cookies and cake on the wooden table. When the noise of all the shattering glass subsided, the silence seemed omnipresent.
I watched as Samson swallowed, having stopped my pursuit of Michel's body momentarily.
“Come here.” I don't think I had ever heard Michel talk like this before. It was... scary.
Samson walked slowly across the room as though approaching Michel was the last thing he wanted to do. I couldn't blame him, Michel was thrumming with Sanguis Vitam right now.
“Kneel before me,” Michel commanded, Samson obliged.
Still stroking me, touching me, Michel looked directly in Samson's eyes and I watched as the magenta sent a shot of colour around the room. Samson stilled, trapped by Michel's glaze. Ordinarily, a vampire cannot glaze another vampire, they inflict their will using Sanguis Vitam, which Michel had been doing up until now, they can command one of their line, but Samson is not Michel's.
But then, I am Michel's - at least in
the eyes of vampires - and Samson is mine, so maybe that's why it worked, I don't know, I couldn't have puzzled through that dilemma right then, I was still urgently seeking release again, writhing beneath Michel's hard body, thrusting my breasts up against his firm chest, rubbing myself across his swollen sex.
“Samson, you will protect Lucinda through the duration of this spell, you will ensure she comes to no harm and you will not have sex with her, no intercourse, no nudity, no seeking to fulfil of your own desire. Is that understood?”
“Yes, master.”
Michel glanced back down at me, his face softening. “I will track down this imp and find out what is going on, but it may take time, I have other pressing matters that I cannot ignore.” He reached inside his breast pocket and handed a business card to Samson. “You can contact me at this number at any time. If Lucinda is beyond help, if you cannot contain the spell with a glaze, I will be here immediately. Now go, leave us.”
“What will you do, master?”
“That is not your concern. I will help Lucinda through this particular episode.”
“She did not want you.”
The room buzzed with unbridled Sanguis Vitam, Michel's eyes took on an unearthly hue, he shot Samson a look, I couldn't see what reaction he got, I was too busy shying away from all that power.
“I am well aware of my kindred's feelings at present, I do not need reminding. Now go!”
Samson shot to his feet and flashed from the room, the door gently closing behind him. Michel breathed deeply for a while, letting the magenta in his eyes fade and the Sanguis Vitam in the room dissipate.
“Ma douce, are you all right?” he asked softly, relaxing his hold slightly, no doubt testing how far the spell had taken hold.
He found his answer, when I managed to flip him on his back, a burst of strength coming from deep within, not from the Nosferatin part of me, but from somewhere else, hidden, never before been released. His breath went out of him in a rush and suddenly I had my hands on the piece of his anatomy I most wanted right at that moment.
“Mon Dieu,” he breathed, staring up at me unmoving. “Merde! I can't say I don't like you like this, ma belle, but you are a little frightening right now.”
Dancing Dragon Page 18
